


A Political Opinion

by poppycostello



Series: Doctor Constable [5]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppycostello/pseuds/poppycostello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson is led to believe that him and Holmes are going to the opera, when in fact, Holmes is taking him to a top-secret nighttime political demonstration. Who are the Constable family? And can they be trusted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Political Opinion

"Ladies and gentleman, " Maisie began, in a voice that was quietly confident and had quite lost the regional twang I had become accustomed to hearing. "I thank each and every one of you for your presence here tonight and for your support of our beliefs." There were various cheers from the crowd at this point, though she pressed on regardless, her voice gaining volume. "As I am sure you are aware, we believe that this present government is corrupt and overrun with mere possums instead of the lion-hearted men our country so badly needs."  
At her choice of words, I raised an eyebrow at Holmes who merely shrugged in response, though I could've sworn he too was holding back a grin from the way his mouth twitched upwards upon turning back to the stage. I had realised, by now, that greater plans were afoot that night than Holmes supporting a friend and future partner (though I did now see how he could find himself so drawn to her). I had my army revolver close at hand, as Holmes had advised me and was scouring the room for the small, seemingly innocuous details that always seemed to lead him straight to the heart of a case.  
I noticed that next to the various exits to the chamber were men who were mostly middle-aged, all wore the same flat workers cap and were dressed In various hues of the most sombre grey attire. This, coupled with the fact that Maisie was in a grey outfit, not dissimilar to that of the men, led me to the assumption that the doors were in fact, guarded. I surreptitiously pointed this out to Holmes who peered at the men and then nodded at me. He didn't look surprised. This, at least, meant that he had a plan. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing that he had deigned to fill me in on the details before we had reached the scene. There was something strangely discerning about the entire arrangement, though, to this day, I could not pin-point what exactly had given me that impression.   
Maisie was still talking to the crowd, there were a few men on stage with her as well by this point, who she had referred to as her brothers although not one of them looked alike. One was tall and thin, with a pinched-looking impression and cold, hard eyes even though he could not have been older than two and twenty. The second man was little more than a lad, with a great shock of rust coloured hair and a nervous expression on his face. He stood to the edge of the stage, shaking like a leaf in an autumn breeze and it was evident, even to my untrained eye, that he was not comfortable with the situation he had thus found himself in. The third and final man, stood to the centre of the stage, with one hand laying protectively on Maisie's arm. He was tall, taller than either myself or Holmes, that is, and was extremely well-built. His voice sounded strong and decidedly upper class, which lent even more mystery to the Yorkshire accent Maisie had demonstrated during our first meeting. Altogether, they looked an extremely odd quartet on stage. The bulky man was obviously the puppet-master, the one who was pulling all the strings. After what Maisie had told me about her family, I was beginning to worry for her safety in the midst of a group such as this. Radical political groups were not looked upon kindly by the officials, I had come across a few cases in my career where men had been imprisoned for less than joining ones of these groups, let alone running one of them.  
Holmes suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and motioned that we should move to the back of the crowd. I obeyed without question. As we edged towards one of the exits, Maisie saw me and chanced a wave, an action not lost on her brother, whose keen eyes instantly locked onto me and my companion and then narrowed, as if realising that we were not supposed to be there.   
"Holmes!" I called out to him.  
He looked at me in shock, a symbol for silence on his lips, but it was already too late.  
The brother, upon hearing my cry, had given a command of some sort and all hell suddenly broke loose. The men on the exits suddenly revealed rifles hidden under their long coats and trained them on the crowd.  
"We had been forewarned of an invasion by the police force tonight," the brother began, " Though it seems they deigned to send their scapegoat, the noble Sherlock Holmes instead."  
"Oh, no, sir," began my companion, "I am here for merely social reasons, I can assure you."  
"Well, we shall see," spat the brute, "Take him, boys, and his follower too."  
"Oh, I wouldn't do that, if I were you," said Holmes, "For the police are waiting for you at the top of those stairs."  
He gestured to the main entrance by which he and I had entered the basement.  
"You scoundrel! Everybody out the back! Now!"  
People hurried with fervour towards the back stairs and Holmes leaned towards me to whisper, "If you want to return home to your wife tonight, Watson, it shouldn't take much to get caught up amongst that crowd and soar on out of here."  
"Do you intend to stay?"  
He nodded. "Me and the Constable brothers still have work to do."  
"And do you feel that my assistance would be of use to you?"  
"It is always of use to have a companion with me on whom I can fully rely."  
"Then I will stay. My wife knows that I am with you and so there is no cause for her to worry. And she is not prone to hysteria."  
"Very well. Follow me and we shall see what muscle-man has to say for himself."


End file.
